Preface
“Sirayis.”
My eyes slowly peeled open at the sound of my name. My mother, speaking softly to me, pulling my hair from my face tucked it behind my ear as she sat behind me.
“Wake up, dear, I have something for you.”
I rubbed my eyes, the lack of sleep weighing on me like a boulder on my chest. I turned and sat upright. My eyes took their time to adjust; only the light of a dying flame lit the room, settled in the masonry fireplace we slept in front of.
“What is it, Mother?” I asked, taking her hand into mine. From what I could make out in the darkness, her expression was solemn, eyes downcast and filled with tears, ready to break down her face.
“I must give you something before the morning. I’m sorry. We only just learned of it today.”
“What are you talking about?”
She grabbed something beside her, reached for my hands and laid it in my palms. Something soft, but heavy.
“This cape,” she spoke, “Is made from the bear your father slew when you were a child.”
“Mother—”
“And this helm,” she grabbed another object, and placed it atop the cloak, “Was forged six months ago by the blacksmiths in the western villages.”
I inspected the items in dim light. The cloak was thick, and the bronze helm reflected the glow of embers, showing off the detail of a vague avian shape. I didn’t understand.
“I…what is this?” I looked to her, finally making out her face in full.
“Yusiv, from the east, was here a couple hours past. The Peshnan’s will conquer Nethra in three months if their expectations serve them correctly.”
…It took me a full minute to process what I had heard before my lip started quivering. I opened my mouth, only a croak exiting my throat.
“We are a strong people. We do not fight unless our survival is at stake. The people of Nethra have protected us for centuries out of respect, but it is time we join them and protect ourselves.”
My mother took her hand to my face, gently pushing the tears from my cheek, ignoring her own. I gripped the cloak in my hands, crumpling the fur and leather between my fingers, looking away, hoping the lack of eye contact would ease my fears. My throat loosened for a brief moment.
“It has been an honor growing with you, Elder Varanel.” I looked back at her, calmness suddenly rushing in my veins.
“I will fight. I will prevail. I will come back to you and hold you in my arms before I die.”
Your writing feels like watching a film play out, every line of dialogue, every movement, and every moment lands with precision. I could picture the light, the atmosphere, the way the tension builds in quiet waves. You know exactly when to hold a moment and when to let it break. That’s not just storytelling, that’s direction. The recent twist was brilliant, bold, unexpected, but absolutely perfect for the story’s rhythm. Truly unforgettable work.